


Boys’ Night

by PinotPurple



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Boys Being Boys, CHICAGO THE MUSICAL - Freeform, Drinking, Everyone is friends, Food Crimes, Hair Dyeing, Implied Relationships, Jenna Marbles plagiarism, Multi, Nail Polish, Six the musical - Freeform, boys being soft, everybody knows each-other, hadestown - Freeform, les miserables the musical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-10-29 21:17:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20803127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinotPurple/pseuds/PinotPurple
Summary: He seriously needed to re-dye his hair. He got up to do it, when he remembered that the last time he did it by himself, he passed out from the fumes. He should call someone to keep him company.





	Boys’ Night

Gerry, from where he sat on his bed, stared at himself in the mirror on the wall. His roots were a grey-blond that stood out painfully next to the box-dyed black hair. (Thanks a lot for your genes, mum. Ugh.) He seriously needed to re-dye his hair. He got up to do it, when he remembered that the last time he did it by himself, he passed out from the fumes. He should call someone to keep him company.

"Dad,” he walked into the living room of their apartment. “I’m calling Jon over.”

"Alright!” Eric said from the couch where he was lounging, his phone on his stomach, playlist rolling away.

Gerry made to go back in his room when Eric asked what was the occassion. “I want him to help me dye my hair.”

"I could do that!” Eric said.

“... Really?”

"What, you just slap paint on it! I hear it doesn’t look too good, so even I can do it!”

"Bye, dad.” Gerry left and picked up his phone.

Jon was 15 minutes deep into his nightly spiral into disassociation and depressive retrospective, lying on his back across his bed, in the dark, staring at the shapes made on the ceiling by car lights coming through the window, when his phone startled him back to the present.

"H-Hello?”

"Hi, Jon!” Gerry said. “Sorry if I woke you up.”

"N-No, it’s fine. I wasn’t sleeping.”

"Oh, good. Wanna come over and help me dye my hair?”

"Nh... Now? Right now?”

"Yeah.”

"... Gerry, it’s almost midnight.”

"I’m not asleep either. Nor’s dad. You’re going to bed?”

"... No, not yet. I’ll be there in 5 minutes.”

"Thanks! Don’t rush!”

Jon was greeted at the door by Eric Delano with a big hug, then led to the bathroom by Gerry, as his dad resumed listening to his tunes. Jon saw on the sink an already opened box of pure black hair dye, two pairs of plastic gloves, a hair dye brush and a disposable plastic bowl.

"Ever dyed your hair before?” Gerry asked, picking a comb and checking for any knots he might have missed.

"No, but I’ve helped Georgie a few times.” Though it had been nearly a decade since those times.

"Awesome.” Gerry said, parting his hair and then handing Jon a pair of gloves.

"Um... Won’t you, uh, won’t you use a towel or something?”

"I'm only dyeing my roots, there's no point. If anything happens, that’s why I put on a black t-shirt.”

*

"_Jesus_! Just _talk_ to him!” Tim shouted, followed by a groan of pain. 

Martin looked down, embarrassed, at the glass in his hands. He was over at Tim and Danny’s, helping Danny nurse Tim back to health. He finally no longer needed to wear any casts, but the shrapnel from bombing the Unknowing did a number on him and everything still very much hurt. The three men chatted, one thing led to another and now both brothers were telling Martin to ask Jon out. (One more _rudely_ than the other) Tim was so bored of convalescence he decided for both of them to play wingman.

"C’mon, Martin!” Danny said. Except for the scars where the strangers marked how they’d skin him, he was still very handsome and chatismatic. _Easy for him to talk_. “Let’s think! What’s the worst that could happen?”

"He’d reject me!” Martin said, terribly honest. "And it would get really awkward to work together. And he'd think everything nice I ever did for him was because of my crush for him."

"It wasn't?"

"I-... um... _well_..."

"Less thinking, more action!” Tim said from where he lied on the couch, on a carefully made nest of pillows and blankets. Martin and Danny sat on armchairs on either side of him.

"Can we- Can we just change the subject? Please?” Martin slouched in his seat.

"Alright.” Danny said and Tim scoffed.

"Are you guys going to Evan and Naomi’s wedding?”

“I would go, to be honest.” Tim said. “But Evan’s family _fucking sucks_.”

"Will they even come?” Danny asked.

"Evan would make a scene. I wanna see it.”

"This is like when you wanted to go to prom just to see how drunk everyone got.”

"Exactly.”

Martin’s phone beeped. “It’s Sasha.” He said.

"What’s she doing?” Tim asked.

"She’s having a night-out with the girls. She sent me pictures.”

Tim thought for a moment. "We should have one too.” 

"You’re in no shape to go out.” Danny said.

"A night-in, then.”

*

"Gerry, I don’t know what I’m doing!” Jon said, brush in hand.

"Just slap it on there!” Gerry groaned.

"It’s all over your scalp!”

"Are you missing any spots? _No!_ Keep going!”

Jon made a grumble of displeasure and dipped the brush in the bowl. His phone, next to Gerry’s on the closed lid of the toilet, made a ting. Gerry leaned to read what the notification was.

"It’s from Sasha.” 

“My hands are kind of busy.”

*

"Okay! Okay! I’ll do it!” Martin shouted back.

"Yes!” Danny said victorious.

"Thank you, God!” Tim said, raising a hand out of the blankets to the Heavens.

"How should I write it?” Martin asked.

"Ask if he wants to hang out.” Tim said.

"I can’t just ask him like that!”

“Why the hell not?”

"It’s so sudden! And it’s midnight! What would ‘hang out’ come across as?”

“_Martin_.”

*

Jon and Gerry stared at Jon’s hand where the glove broke and where Jon’s hand was dyed black, as though he was being infected by darkness.

"Is this a bad time to say your nails look horrible?” Gerry said. Jon took a very deep breath. And chocked on the fumes from the dye.

*

"Hit send already!!” Tim said, having gotten up in a sitting position, a concerned Danny trying to pull him back down.

"I am!!” Martin said, backing away.

"_Ugh_. Jesus Christ, man, you’re making my blood pressure rise.”

*

Jon and Gerry sat on Gerry’s bed, surrownded by nail polish bottles. Gerry, towel wrapped around his wet hair, was filing his own nails while Jon admired his manicure, black with small golden eyes drawn on the middle fingers, careful not to mess them up, as nail polish took for-fucking-ever to dry.

Jon’s phone made another ting. He absentmindedly grabbed it, putting his fingers beneath it to lift it up. Both men gasped when they realised what he did. He turned his hand and yup, they were smudged.

Jon groaned and looked at the notidication.

"Sasha?” Gerry asked as he got up to fetch acetone.

"No, it’s Martin. He, Tim and Danny are asking if I want to hang out with them.” Jon said as he texted that he was already with Gerry.

*

"He’s already with Gerry.” Martin read to the Stoker brothers.

"Ask him too!”

*

"They’re asking if you wanna hang out as well.” Jon read as he received the acetone and some cotton.

"Nnnh... Not really.” Gerry said, unraveling his hair and setting the towel over his shoulders, and Jon redacted. “I don’t wanna get out of the house.”

"Gerry, please don’t catch a cold!” Eric called from the living room. 

“I won’t!” Gerry said, already going to the get the hair dryer.

*

Gerry finished drying his hair and looked at the resultwith a smile. 

“Gerry, there’s somebody at the door.” Eric called.

"Can’t you answer it?” He asked as he made his way to it.

"Nope! I’m too comfy!”

Gerry opened the door and on the other side were Danny and Martin, holding bags and supporting Tim between them.

"Hi!” They said, all at once.

"What the hell?!” Gerry took a step back.

“Who is it?” Eric said, getting up.

"I-It’s Martin and Danny and _Tim_! You’re supposed to be _resting_!”

"Listen.” Tim leaned forward, taking advantage of being held. “I am so _bored_. This is _boring_. I’ve been in bed and on the couch for _months_. I need to see more than my _brother_. No offence.”

"None taken.” Danny smiled.

"Jon’s here too, right?” Tim asked.

"**FUCK**!!” Jon shouted from Gerry’s room, where he smudged his nails again.

"Yes, he is.” Gerry said.

Everyone was installed in the living room. Eric gave up the half of the couch for Tim, who needed to lie down. Gerry brought chairs from the dinning room. Danny and Martin set the bags on the coffee table. Jon came from the bedroom, defeated and with bare nails.

"Woah!” Danny said, seeing his blackened hand. “What happened?”

"Gerry bought cheap gloves to dye his hair with.” Jon said as he sat down.

"At least both of your hands are even now.” Martin said. Jon puffed out a laugh.

“Alright!” Tim said, clapping and regretting it. “What does everyone want to eat? We got McDonalds, KFC, uh, fuckiiin'... Subway!”

“What’s over here?” Jon asked.

"Booze!”

"... Tim, you’re on pain killers.”

"And? Isn't alchohol one too?"

"Should we invite anybody else?” Danny asked.

"Naomi’s with the girls, let’s call Evan.” Martin said.

"You do it, practice talking to people.” Tim said, reaching for a burger, and Martin blushed furiously. “I’m eating.”

"I’ll do it.” Danny smiled, also reaching for one. "A little later, though."

*

One out of four bottles cheap wine later, the Delano apartment was tipsy. Tim was forbidden from drinking, so instead he stuffed his face with ungodly creations or made the others eat them.

He finished putting McDonalds nuggets, pickles and peanut butter in a Subway sesame bun, drizzling mayo and mustard in zig-zag over it before handing it to a horrified Gerry with a sweet smile.

"Are we sure the Stranger is done for a while?” Martin asked, sipping from his drink.

"Mention them again and I’m making you drink milk mixed with Pepsi.”

There was a knock on the door. Gerry, grateful for it, quickly put his plate down and went to open it, stepping over a Danny collapsed on the floor, holding a phone. His own brother made him eat honey cereal in ketchup like it was soup. At the door were Oliver Banks and Mike Crew. Gerry was surprised, but let them in, being in a good mood from the booze.

"How did you know we have a get-together?” Gerry asked.

Mike blinked and furrowed his brows. “_You_ texted us.”

"No, I didn’t-" He looked down as to not step on Danny when he saw the phone that was in his hand. “Danny, that’s mine!”

"Wh-What?” Danny got up with a start.

"Did you even invite Evan?” Tim asked, dipping the left-over pickles in the remaining peanut butter and crunching them loudly.

"I did! I think...” Danny got up, rubbing his forehead.

"Who else did you invite?” Gerry asked when a door opened next to the window leading to the street two floors down. Gerry’s mood immediatly soured. “_Michael._”

"_Gerard._” The Distortion said, smiling, but nostrils flared and jaw tense.

The room looked back-and-forth between the two of them. 

“Who is he?” Danny whispered to Martin.

"Michael. He and Gerry used to work for Gertrude.” Martin whispered back. "And they also had a thing going on, I think."

"But Michael is- oh. _Oh._”

“I have made peace with my faith.” Michael said, eyes locked on Gerry. 

The tension could be cut with Tim’s butter knife.

“Wh-Who wants fries?” Martin asked, picking and presenting the plate from where Tim would pick them for his horrible crafts.

"I’ll go get more chairs.” Gerry said, walking fast and with fists clenched.

"Uh, I need to pee.” Eric said, got up and went to the bathroom.

"Why is it that _Gerard_ called me?” Michael said, tilting his head up. He looked around the room. “I see you’re having a feast.”

"We’re not enjoying it.” Danny said.

"Is the Archivist quite alright?” Michael asked, pointing a sharp finger at him.

Jon was slumped in an armchair, holding an empty glass in his lap, eyes vacating and staring at nothing straight ahead.

"We... we’re not sure.” Martin said.

Gerry returned with only two chairs. Oliver and Mike awkwardly took seats and accepted glasses.

"So...” Martin tried to smile.

"So.” Gerry said, glaring at Michael.

"So.” Michael said in his echo-y voice, not taking his eyes off his.

“Did Gerry, like...” Tim began, spraying whipped cream on the McDonalds fries. “Know about... you kno-"

"He did.” Michael interrupted him.

"_I knew_ Gertrude wanted to stop the Spiral’s ritual next.” Gerry said, trying to keep his voice calm. “I didn’t know she was going to use _you_ for it.”

"Ah ha ha! You didn’t think anything of it when I left with her by boat? Or when I didn’t come back? Aren’t followers of the Eye supposed to _know_ things?”

"The fries are so good!” Martin said, holding the plate again. “Please try them!”

“Did it take you a long time to figure you had a tumour too?” Michael tilted his head to the side.

"(This is so awkward...)” Tim said, filling a wine glass with mayo.

"Alright, listen.” Gerry got up and walked over the Michael. He was a head taller, but Gerry didn’t back away. “You’re not doing this in my father’s house.”

"Ah, yes. Mr. Delano, who said my hair looked like _spaghetti_ even before I became what I am.”

"It was a _joke_!”

"_He is a blind man."_

"That’s his humour!"

"Jokes are supposed to be funny. Like your dye job!”

"Seriously!” Martin said. “These fries are _so_ good!”

"Give up, Marto.” Tim said. “They gotta fight it out.”

"We’re not _fighting_.” Gerry closed his eyes in frustration.

"No, we are not.” Michael said. “Gerard refuses to _ever_ confront his problems.”

"Can you not?!”

"I can, but I’m won’t.”

"God, you’re so annoying!”

"Ha ha ha!”

"This is the Christmas party _all over again_!"

"And whose fault was it then, _just like now _?"

"_You_ could have said something! Anytime! But you _didn't _! You just brooded all night, expecting me to just read your mind!"

"It would have been_ obvious_, if you had an _ounce_ of common sense!"

"Oh! You want to talk about common sense! Don't get me started, because you'll regret it."

"Phah! The only thing I regret was not realising what a pain in the ass you are sooner."

"Um, should we leave?” Mike whispered to Oliver.

"And miss this?” Oliver said, taking fries from Martin’s plate.

"You guys, please...” Martin said, fully handing the plate over to Oliver.

"You know what - get out of my house.” Gerry said.

"Oh? But _you_ invited me. How rude.” Michael said.

"Michael, I’m not in the mood to argue with you.” Gerry took a step forward, glaring up at him. “_Leave._”

Michael stepped closer. “_Make me._”

The apartment was filled with a deafening silence, cut only by Tim and Oliver chewing the food in their mouths and by Eric rolling and ripping toilet paper in the bathroom.

Gerry suddenly grabbed Michael from behind the head, grabbing fistfuls of hair, and crushed his lips against his. Michael wrapped his arms around him, lifting him off the floor. Michael stepped backwards, pushing his door open, and they fell inside, Gerry kicking it back closed.

The room remained quiet for a very long minute.

“Aah, much better.” Eric walked out of the bathroom, the toilet flushing breaking the silence with the gentleness of a hammer. “Booze ain’t good, kids.”

"Okay, let’s stay.” Mike said, also helping himself some fries.

*

“Jon...” Martin got up and touched his shoulder. Jon had slid low on his seat, eyes still very much far away, slightly crinkled, and lips parted. 

“Is he ok?” Danny asked.

"I don’t know.” Martin said.

"He drank the least of us, damn.” Tim said.

"Jon?” Martin shook him gently. “Are you ok? ...Jon, are you there?”

"Do you know where you are?” Oliver snickered. Mike migrated to his lap and was downing his glass.

“Jon, do you _hear_ us?” Martin said, getting concerned.

Something activated in Jon’s eyes. His chest swole as he took a deep but silent breath. He slowly turned his head to Martin.

”Do you hear the people sing?” Jon said very quietly, almost inaudible, staring up at Martin. “Singing a song of angry men?”

”Wh-What?” Martin said, going to stragihten up.

”Do you hear the people sing?” Jon sang, intensely and gradually louder, slapping his hand on either side of Martin’s face, keeping him in place. “Singing a song of angry men? It is a music of a people who will _not_ be slaves again!”

Nobody knew how to react. Martin could only stare, confused and baffled, as Jon sang inches away from his face. He was a really good singer too??

”I-“ Martin tried and was cut off.

”When the beating of heart! Echoes the beating of the drums! There is a life about to start! When tomorrow comes!”

”Jon-“ 

“Will you _join_ in our crusade? Who will be _strong_ and _stand_ with me? Beyond the barricade is there a world you long to _see_? Then join the _fight_ that will give you the _right_ to be _free_!”

“Jon, are you _crying_?”

"_Do you hear the people sing_? _Singing a song of angry men_?” Jon sang, liberated by alcohol, a teenager again, in a red coat and two cans of hairspray, memories he tried so hard to repress and erase from existence, but alive after all those years and _yearning to be freed_.

*

"Okay, I think he calmed down..." Tim whispered as he watched Jon sit, slumped, back into his seat. His eyes were closed now.

"Is Danny okay, though?" Oliver asked, looking at Danny who was once again on the floor in agony. Tim made him do ketchup shots. What did he have with ketchup that night?!

"He'll be fine!" Tim said, finishing the sandwich meant for Gerry.

"I'll be fine..." Danny croaked.

"What were you two doing when Danny texted?" Eric asked.

"We were at a jazz club." Mike said, feeling quite tipsy.

"5, 6, 7, 8." Jon whispered.

Mike gave him the side-eye before continuing.

"Grifter's Bone walked in and we got out as they were installing. We were wondering where to go when Gerry texted. I wanted to go back home but Oliver said I need to socialise." He said and poked Oliver's cheek as Oliver smiled at him.

"You spend to much time with your people." Oliver said. "Simon's fun, I get it-"

"He's not." Martin said, dryly.

"It's kind of cool how he was taken by the Vast." Danny leaned for a glass, narrowly avoiding Jon's leg as he kicked it in the air.

"Come on, babe," Jon sang, "why don't we paint the town?"

"_Oh God, that's Chicago_." Eirc said.

"And all that jazz!" Jon continued, posing on his armchair, voice sultrier by the second. "I'm gonna _rouge_ my knees and roll my stockings down. And all that jazz."

Martin thought his face was going to physically crack.

"Start the car, I know a _whoopee_ spot, where the gin is cold but the piano's _hot_! It's just a noisy hall, where there's a nightly brawl! And All! That! Jaaazz!" He paused. "And all that jazz!"

"Jon, you're killing him!" Tim tried really hard not to laugh as how Martin got. Martin tried really hard not to hurt and already hurt man.

"Mike, you good?" Oliver asked.

"Yeah, yeah." Mike nodded, straightening up, his eyes fluttering closed.

"Time to go?"

"No, I'm okay."

Jon stopped singing abruptly and after a moment he changed the tone of his voice, but it was still very much jazzy. "Better go get your suitcase packed, guess it's time to go. She's gonna ride that train, she's gonna ride that train, she's gonna ride that train to the end of the line... 'Cause the king of mine is coming to call. Did you ever wonder what it's like? On the under side?"

"Oh, I know this one!" Danny said.

"On the yonder side?"

"Is this sexual again?" Tim asked.

"On the other side of his wall? Follow that dollar for a long way down, far away from the poorhouse door. You either get to Hell or to Hades town. Ain't no difference anymore."

Jon hopped to his feet. What the hell, he was good dancer too??

"Way down, to Hadestown! Way down under the ground! Hound dog howl and the whistle blow. Train come a-rolling, clickety-clack. Everybody trynna get a ticket to go, but those who go, they don't come back."

Martin gasped as Jon grabbed him by the arms and pulled him into the dance. Martin glanced at the others. Tim and Danny were smiling like fools, encouraging to keep going.

"They goin' way down, to Hadestown! Way down under the ground! Ha!" Jon sang, smiling brightly at Martin. He reeked of wine, but Martin smiled back and tried to follow along the steps. Jon sang in falsetto "Winter's nigh and summer's o'er. Hear that high and lonesome sound- of my husband comin for- to bring me home to Hadestown. Way down in Hadestown! Way down-"

Jon stopped suddenly mid-chorus. His eyes opened wide in realisation and fear. All colour drained from his face. Martin realised it too and whispered "Oh no."

Jon bolted towards the bathroom. Eric tried to tell him in time that the trash bin was closer to the door than the toilet. Jon slammed his knees against the floor and wretched into the bowl. The others made sounds of pity and sympathy. Danny poured him a glass of water as Jon finished coughing and spitting.

*

There was a knock on the Delano door. Martin went to open it with no little dread, but thankfully, it was Evan Lukas, followed, less thankfully, by Tom Haan.

Evan explained that he hired Tom and his family to cook for his wedding. Tom nodded. Evan clarified that the food would be normal, with a laugh that was rather nervous.

"Doesn’t the Lukas family have their own cook?” Eric asked.

Evan soft and cheerful face went dark so quickly the others felt the need to back away. “I do not talk with Steve anymore.”

"... okay.” Eric said, sensing it too.

Evan’s sweet smile returned as if nothing happened.

He finished the remaining bottles in record time and was now crying in the arms of a father that wasn’t his, but who was good enough for the moment.

"I-I-I just love her so much!!” He bawled. “She’s so smart and sweet and brave!! And she’s so pretty, oh my god!!”

"We’re very happy for you, Evan!” Tim said, taste-testing the concoctions Tom was making.

"You guys! You guys!” Evan sniffled. “I can’t look at her directly sometimes! Sh-She’s like the sun! Radiating life and happiness and-and— ouuwgh!! I wanna get married so bad!! I wanna marry her _now_!! Tom, call Father Burroughs!!”

Tom sighed, then resumed putting a boiled egg inside an avocado where the seed should have been.

Gerry opened Michael’s door and returned to the apartment. It disappeared right after he closed it. His hair was a mess, his lips and his chin were bruised and his clothes were full of cuts. He limped to the couch and let himself fall next to Tom. Tim, on Tom's other side, winced at the sudden movement. “Sorry.” Gerry mumbled, rubbing his neck. 

“Did you and Michael make up?” Eric asked, rubbing Evan’s back. 

“Yeah, for now.” Gerry said, sighing and louging back.

"Jon, are you feeling better?” Martin asked, stroking his hand.

"Y-Yeah...” Jon said, slowly sipping water. “I’m not good with alcohol.”

"I noticed.” Martin couldn’t stop himself from laughing. 

Jon laughed too and looked at Martin as Martin looked up. They locked eyes for a moment, then both of them looked away, blushing and laughing again, more nervously. Martin forgot his hand over Jon's.

"Evan, tell us more about your wedding.” Oliver said, raising his glass at him as Mike rested against his chest with his eyes closed.

Evan sniffed and straightened up. “We have most things planned out. Naomi bought her dress and it’s getting modified. She ordered bride's-maids' dresses. We still gotta find a good photographer and a DJ and-“

"DJ?” Danny got off the floor where Tim and Tom landed him again. “I have a friend who’s a DJ.”

"William is so _lame_!” Tim spoke with his mouth full. “Evan and Naomi should get something really cool. A huge middle finger to Lukases. Like a band or something.”

"I started listening to a band recently!” Eric said. 

“Dad, don’t.” Gerry said as he wiped the hair off his face.

"Well, not really a band, but a group that performs a musical. Wanna hear it? I'm sure you know it, Jon!”

Jon groaned, but allowed it.

*

Sasha, Helen, Basira, Georgie, Melanie and Naomi stumbled down the busy streets of London among other party-goers, laughing all the while, even harder when one of them stumbled and they had to pick her up. Helen led the way, Basira and Sasha supported Naomi who lost her shoes and tore her stockings' feet, and Melanie walked with her arms wrapped around Gerogie, pulling her down to her height.

"You guys, I just-“ Naomi said, half-laughing, half-crying. “- I love him so much!! He’s so sweet and kind and caring and sweet!! He's like candy!!”

"We’re so happy for you, Naomi.” Georgie said.

"Yeah, being in love is awesome!” Melanie said, kissing Georgie on the cheek, receiving a choir of “aww’s”.

"Where should we go next?” Helen asked. “This area sucks _ass_.”

"Isn’t this where Gerry and his dad live?” Sasha asked, looking around.

"It is!” Melanie said. “Look! There’s his flat!”

"The lights are on.” Naomi pointed out.

*

"**Divorced.**”

"My name’s Katherine of Aragon.” Gerry sang. “Was married 24 years, I’m a _paragon_ of royalty. My loyalty is to the _Vatican_ so if you try to dump me - you won’t try that again.~”

“**Beheaded.**”

"I’m that Boleyn girl, and I’m up next. See,” Danny sang “I broke England from the church. Yeah, I’m that sexy.~ Why did I lose my head? Well, my sleeves may be green, but my lipstick’s _red_...”

"**Died.**”

"Jane Seymour, the only one he truly loved!” Martin sang.

"Rude...”

"When my son was newly born, I died. But I’m not what I seem, or am I? Stick around and you’ll suddenly see more.”

"**Divorced.**”

"Ich bin Anna of Cleeves.” Evan sang.

"Ja?”

"When he saw my portrait, he was like-“

"_Ja_.”

"But I didn’t look as good as I did in my pic... Funny how we all discuss that, but never Henry’s little p-“

"Prick up your ears!” Tim sang. “I'm the Katherine who lost her head!”

"**Beheaded.**”

"For her promiscuity outside of wed—lock up your husbands, lock up your sons! K. Howard is here and the fun’s _begun_!”

"**Survived.**”

"Five down, I’m the final wife.” Jon sang. “I saw him to the end of his life. I’m the survivor, Catherine Parr! I bet you wanna know how I got this far! I said I bet you wanna know how we got this far! Ayyy!”

"**Do you wanna know how we got this far, then?**”

*

"Is that... singing?” Sasha asked as the group stared up at Gerry and Eric’s window.

Their attention was caught by a police car driving up the street and parking next to them.

"Daisy!” The girls cheered.

"You’re all drunk.” Daisy remarked.

"Decided to join us?” Basira asked.

"Can’t, sorry. I was called on a noise complaint.”

The group went quiet. “Here?” Basira asked.

"Yeah.” Daisy said.

"Over there?” Melanie pointed to the lit window.

"Yeah, second floor.” Daisy said. “Why? What is it?”

"That’s Gerry’s place.” Georgie said.

"It sounds like all the boys are there.” Helen added.

"Oh, this will be _fun_.” Daisy grinned as she made her way to the building’s intercom.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  



End file.
